


Three Hearts, Four Seasons

by OverWroughtThought



Category: Acquisitions Inc., Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), The "C" Team
Genre: F/F, Lost Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 10:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverWroughtThought/pseuds/OverWroughtThought
Summary: In spring she made a promise, in summer saw its truth, in autumn she betrayed them, and in winter mourned her youth.





	Three Hearts, Four Seasons

_**SPRING** _

  
  
We scatter through the canopy by the Squirrel Ways.  It is a route only young kits can travel, branches too thin to support an elder sister.  Nilaen, the oldest of us, first discovered the path, and taught Vervain and I to trace it.  
  
The squirrels keep an uneasy alliance with us, always fearing for their caches.  Sometimes we find these secret stores of nuts and remind the squirrels of their locations.  They pretend they remembered all along.  
  
New growth fills my senses with the odor of green sap and blooming flowers.  Chill air carries the promise of warmth with morning sunlight.  Bark is slick with moisture, sometimes frost, sometimes morning dew.  The grove debates the season, but knows it will commit to the coming summer soon.    
  
I bound along a bough that flexes beneath me, flinging myself into open air as the wood creaks a warning.  A breathless moment, airborne, fingers and toes reaching for an uncertain purchase.  I snag a branch on the next tree over.  It breaks, but the second holds.  I smile, heart racing, blood pounding.  Risk is inherent to the Squirrel Ways.  That's what makes it fun.  
  
Ahead of me to my left, Vervain is a blur of graceful leaps.  All fluid motion.  On the right, Nilaen is a streak of speed, pure intention.  I strive to catch up, but can never quite close the gap.    
  
Nilaen propels herself off a trunk, cutting through the air like a falcon.  My breath catches.  She misjudged the distance.  The next tree is too far.    
  
No, I am the one mistaken.  For me, perhaps, it would be an impossible leap, but Nilaen crosses the distance with ease.  I breathe a sign of relief as her feet touch down on a neighboring branch.  
  
It snaps.  
  
As does the next.  
  
And the next.  
  
Nilaen makes no sound, but I scream as she falls.  
  
Vervain and I find her at the base in a broken patch of brambles.  Her leg is shattered in multiple places.  Tears hover in her eyes, but she does not let them fall, only grits her teeth in a snarl of pain.  
  
"I will get help," Vervain says, and turns to leave.  
  
"No," Nilaen grabs her arm.  "Don't leave me."  
  
Vervain and I exchange a glance.  Never before have we heard fear in Nilaen's voice.  Neither of us point it out.  Nilaen could recover from a wound to her body, but never her pride.  
  
Instead, I grip her shoulder.  
  
"We are with you," I promise.  "Always."  
  
I begin to craft a litter from broken sticks, coaxing new growth from the youngest wood to knit it together.  The critical joints I bind with my Grandmother's Rope.  It is rough in my hands, but I know it will hold.  My work finished, I look to Vervain to help move Nilaen without doing her more harm.  It will be a grueling journey back, but with the two of us, I think we can pull her there.  Hopefully soon enough to save her.  
  
Kneeling several feet away with her eyes closed, Vervain buries her fingers in the wet grass.  A frown of concentration contorts her face.  I stand and begin to speak, but Nilaen holds up one hand in a commanding gesture.  I freeze.  
  
Vervain opens her mouth and a high pitched, screeching wail spills out.  It echoes off the trees.  Again, she releases the keening warble.  I resist the urge to cover my ears.  
  
She stills.  Goosebumps rise on my skin.  I am holding my breath, but don't know why.  
  
In the silence, I hear it.  Quiet footfalls, barely disturbing the undergrowth.  As the morning sun burns off the last of the mist, an elk emerges from the fog.  His winter fur clings to his neck and sides in patches as he sheds it for his sleek, copper colored summer coat.  A new set of velvet covered antlers rise from his proud brow, still growing.  By the end of summer, they will be magnificent and imposing.  He sees us and tenses, body bracing to charge.    
  
Vervain lets loose another shrill bugle.  The beast shivers.  Then bobs his head as though bowing.  He approaches, surprisingly quiet for such a massive animal.  Vervain stands and he permits her to touch his nose, snuffling as she does so, taking in her scent.  
  
She turns to us.  Her smile is breathtaking, full of awe and wonder.  I cannot help but return it, and looking down at Nilaen I see that even through the pain, she wears a proud grin.  

_**SUMMER** _

  
  
My paws beat upon the ground as I dart across the deer's path.  It panics, bolting the other way.  Vervain snaps at it from the other side and it shies back, trapped between us with no way to go but forward.  The blood sings in my veins, breath hot.    
  
We followed the herd for days, assessing, harrying, while Nilaen planned our attack.  At last, the moment came, and we fell upon our prey.  Our original target had been a calf, but when an older member of the herd stumbled, Nilaen signaled a change.    
  
Moment by moment, the animal tires.  The scent of fear and exhaustion fills my nose and I snarl in anticipation.  Soon.  It will be soon.  
  
We drive our quarry into Nilaen's waiting teeth.    
  
Her powerful jaws close around the deer's nose.  Vervain and I fall upon the flanks in a frenzy of fangs, avoiding desperate kicks as we tear at the flesh.  Blood fills my mouth, a hot burst of iron.  I dive in again for another deep bite, satisfaction filling me as I rip muscle and snap bone.  
  
The deer falters.  Falls.  
  
The heart we split, as is our tradition.    
  
My belly full, muzzle coated in blood, I realize how much I love them.  Nilaen and Vervain are a part of me.  I want this moment to last forever.      
  
Three souls to one heart.  

_**AUTUMN** _

  
  
Nilaen seizes Vervain and kisses her.  I watch and try to smile.  
  
I love them both more than I can stand, but they only have eyes for each other.  I must have been blind not to see it before.  Even as a kit, I could never catch up.  
  
"Blade Words!"  
  
"Nilaen.  Vervain," I whisper to the green glass of my weapon, "Goddess, grant them happiness together."    
  
The words seem empty and the ritual feels tainted.  My thoughts drift to the Betrayer before I banish her from my thoughts.  It is autumn.  The height of Mielikki's season.  I should exalt in her power, but instead I sense her grief.  Or perhaps it is only my own loss I feel and there is no room left in my heart for her blessings.  
  
I think then that I have never felt such bitterness.  
  
I soon learn how much more sorrow I can bear.

**_WINTER_ **

  
  
I broke my word.    
  
"We are with you," I had said.  "Always."  
  
But in the end, I am alive, and Nilaen is dead.    
  
We could not even reclaim the seed of her essence.  Lost and left behind in the retreat from the rubble of Guallidurth.  I pray the drow never uncover it.  To be put in one of their labs under glass would be an indignity that Nilaen's proud spirit should never endure.  
  
I stare out over snow covered peaks.  Beneath me, smoke rises from human settlements.  The world is changing.  Has been, for centuries.  I cannot accept it, because I cannot adapt.  I am frozen in Nilaen's final moment.    
  
It should have been me.  
  
If I'd truly loved them, I would have taken the blow.  Left them to each other.  Honored my prayer for their happiness.  My memory would have lived in their hearts forever.  Three souls, one unbreakable bond.  Together they could have lead our people in preserving the grove against all challengers. 

Instead, we fracture, and the world changes.  
  
Vervain would have chosen me, in her grief.  An ill-fitting graft to replace a broken limb.  Part of me wanted to try, but I knew only rot and ruin would come from it.  Nilaen's shadow follows us.  
  
In the end, I left Vervain to mourn alone.    
  
My mind drifts once more to the Betrayer.  Perhaps she does not answer prayers out of spite, but out of shame.    
  
I make my way down the slope.  Inside the buildings by the fire, it will be warm.    
  
It will not be enough to thaw my heart.  


End file.
